A Clever Ploy
by Tapix
Summary: Larry gets in trouble with McPhee, again. This time, however, there's something more to it. PWP, Larry x McPhee


-stays up till 4 am to write 3000-word-long pwp night at the museum fanfic-

ive lost control of my life

but seriously literally all i could think about during the scene at the end where larry hands over his flashlight and keys was "what if mcphee told him to take off his clothes too"

* * *

Larry couldn't believe this. He really couldn't.

He'd thought that after _that night_ he and Dr. McPhee had come to a sort of understanding. A bond of trust, if you will. But here he was, once again, standing in the man's office and being lectured about some tiny little detail that he happened to have missed.

"…you just can't—you—" McPhee trailed off in his usual fashion, either physically unable to think of something to say or simply too angry to say it. Larry flinched as a bit of spit hit his face from the stuttering, then blushed, just a little bit. Goddammit, he hated the little man, but he was sometimes tauntingly attractive, even when he was red in the face with fury. Hell, that made it better – Larry couldn't believe he was thinking this. He wasn't thinking this. Not now.

"Are you listening to me?" McPhee's sharp voice brought Larry back to reality.

"Y-yes! Yes, absolutely, sir!" He straightened up, staring straight ahead. Dr. McPhee scrutinized him for a minute, and Larry tried his best not to fidget under his prying gaze.

"I'll need your keys and your torch."

"What?"

"You heard me! Keys and torch, _now._" The shorter man held out his hand and waited. "Come on, I don't have all day!"

Larry was baffled. "But- but sir-"

"Now!" Larry jumped McPhee's exclamation, and slowly unclipped the keys and flashlight from his belt. This couldn't be happening. He'd been here a month, and now he was getting fired? This seriously wasn't right.

Dr. McPhee snatched the items from his hand and placed them on his desk. "Mr. McPhee – Dr. McPhee, wait," Larry pleaded. "You seriously can't – you're not seriously firing me, right?"

McPhee turned around and looked Larry straight in the eye. Larry stood, frozen, his hand still outstretched in an act of desperation. The small man looked Larry up and down, then, and the taller man, against his own will, grew hot under his gaze. _God, I can't seriously be still having these thoughts, can I? I'm getting fired, for fuck's sake!_ But it was happening. Larry cursed himself for being so susceptible.

"I'll need your clothes back as well."

If Larry thought that he was stunned then, well, now he was absolutely floored. His clothes? Really? Right now? What, was he supposed to strip right in front of his boss or something? He felt his face heat up at the thought, and silently willed the blood to go away. Now was definitely not the time to be having fantasies about Dr. McPhee slowly pulling the clothes from Larry's body, taking his time as he often did when he wasn't enraged, allowing Larry to pop the buttons one by one on his waistcoat –

_Shit._ All bets were off now; the boss would surely take notice in the erection that was beginning to manifest itself in Larry's pants. _This cannot be happening._ Larry was sure that his face was bright red now; this was devastating. He would never live this down.

Dr. McPhee, on the other hand, was… _Smirking?_ "Didn't you hear me?" He said again, but quieter, his voice smooth as silk. "I said, remove your clothing." His gaze flicked downwards for a second, then back up to rest on Larry's shocked visage.

_Oh. OH._ Shit. What. Was Dr. McPhee… coming onto him? _Whoa._ It took Larry a long second to realize that his mouth was hanging open. He snapped his jaw shut with an audible click, and his tongue darted out to moisten his dry lips. "I-I- uh- um –"

"Quit stuttering, man," McPhee murmured, grabbing Larry's tie impatiently, "and do as I say."

Suddenly snapping back to life, Larry nodded violently, his mouth hanging open once again. "Y-yes sir!" He pulled off his jacket hastily, and McPhee dropped his tie and sat back against his desk, content to watch. Larry plucked off his tie and tossed it to the side, not worrying about where it landed. He began to unbutton his shirt, slower this time – if he was going to put on a show, then it would be a _show._ The last button came undone, and he slid the shirt off, letting it drop to the floor. Just as he went for his undershirt, though, his hand was knocked away.

"Let me do that," McPhee cooed, and kissed him.

It was a slow, languid thing, each person getting used to the other's style. Larry found himself backing up, McPhee's weight leaning on him, until he hit the door. His arms, previously at his sides, coiled up into the shorter man's hair, gripping loosely. He felt McPhee reach around him, and heard the lock click. The sound reminded him that they were not alone, that this was a workplace, a _museum_, of all places. While that should have stopped Larry, it did nothing but drive him to pick up the pace, grabbing around the other man's waist and moving his lips with more urgency.

McPhee seemed to share his sentiments, breaking away for just a second to pull Larry's shirt over his head. Larry shivered slightly under the cool winter air. The old heaters could only do so much – maybe they should get them replaced. That train of thought sailed straight out of the window as McPhee moved to his neck, gliding his lips over the sensitive left side.

"Oh – oh god," Larry whispered, reveling in the pleasurable sensations that shot straight to his groin. He bit back a moan as McPhee scraped his teeth along the skin, his breathing increasing in speed. He grabbed the small man bodily, wrapping his arms around him and pulling him flush against his chest, bringing McPhee's mouth back up to his face and positively attacking him. He then moved to McPhee's neck, opting for the right side instead, and the man gasped aloud, gripping Larry's hair urgently.

Larry, not stopping his ministrations on his boss's neck, grabbed the man's suit jacket. "Now, this isn't fair," he chuckled, "you're wearing way too many clothes." McPhee made a noise of agreement, and Larry shoved the jacket off of his shoulders, quickly unbuttoning the vest and tossing it aside, pulling his dress shirt off so fast he almost popped a few buttons (he was sure that, attraction or not, McPhee would not appreciate that). Surprisingly, McPhee wore no undershirt, and Larry gleefully ran a hand across the other man's chest. He was stocky, not burly, but not fat, either. It made a nice contrast to Larry's skinny form.

In one motion, Larry flipped their positions, pushing McPhee up against the door and kissing him crazily, quickly moving onwards and, more importantly, downwards. He spent little time on McPhee's chest – he didn't seem to care much for his nipples, and there were more important things, anyway. Larry moved to his knees, glad for the rug in front of the door. It would make for less sore knees in the future, and maybe he wouldn't end up like Cecil.

Fumbling slightly with McPhee's belt, he glanced upward. His boss's face was deliciously flushed, and his hair was a mess. _That would be a nice thing to wake up to, first thing in the morning. I could look at that all day._ Finally, he pulled the belt apart, and looked back down to focus. He had only ever given a blowjob once before, to some jock in a high school closet, and that had been under… questionable conditions. He knew not to use teeth, at least. And to not force it. That was the important part.

Slowly, Larry undid the zipper, mouthing slightly at the bulge through McPhee's boxer briefs, which were as surprising as his lack of undershirt. _This guy lives on the edge,_ Larry chuckled to himself. After a moment of steeling himself for the task ahead, he reached into McPhee's pants and retrieved his prize.

The man wasn't too large – he was quite short in stature, after all, so it came as no surprise. All the easier to fit in his mouth, he supposed. He licked it experimentally, earning a groan for his efforts. Carefully, he took McPhee's penis into his mouth, and began to move, slowly at first, then picking up the pace. McPhee wound his hands into Larry's hair, grabbing gently. Larry glanced upward again, relishing the sight of his boss coming undone under _his_ mouth, instead of the other way around.

Just as McPhee's pants began to pick up speed, Larry found himself pushed away. "Oh- oh my –" Larry looked up at his stuttering boss, who was supporting himself on the door. "I – I want –" McPhee closed his eyes a moment, and when he opened them again, he looked straight at Larry, determination in his face. "I want you to fuck me."

Larry felt a tingle run through his groin at the words. God, yes, that would be excellent. He stood up and kissed the man again. "Are you sure?" He wanted to make certain that this was not still some sort of trick.

"Yes. Yes, just do it, come on now." McPhee grabbed Larry and pulled him against his chest, backing himself up against the desk. "Right here."

"H-here?" Larry had never even considered having sex with someone on a tabletop before, but now that it was happening, he couldn't imagine why he didn't do it sooner. Just the thought of it made his cock throb uncomfortably in his trousers.

"Here." McPhee kissed Larry again, undoing his belt easily and shoving his hand into his boxers. Larry gasped against McPhee's lips, rubbing himself against the other man. "Oh, do you have, you know –" McPhee pulled back from Larry questioningly.

Larry stared at him for a second, then remembered. "Oh, yeah, yeah, hold on," he pulled his wallet from his pocket, fishing the condom from inside. "Do you have any-"

"Yes, hold on, it's…" McPhee reached behind him into one of the drawers, pulling out a bottle.

"Dude, you keep lube in your desk?" Larry smirked, and McPhee huffed, looking away.

"Well… since you came here…" It was so quiet, barely a whisper, but Larry heard it. Damn, really? That was… pretty attractive. Larry grabbed McPhee's face and kissed him passionately, rutting eagerly against him. "Come on now, hurry up," McPhee said, pushing him away slightly. He leaned up next to Larry's ear. "I want you to fuck me so hard that my desk feels it." Larry shivered, and then silently hoped that the desk wasn't some sort of artifact as well, and that it wouldn't _really_ feel it. That would be embarrassing.

Fingers shaking, Larry ripped open the package, rolling the condom on carefully, making sure it was secure. He pulled McPhee's pants down, and the shorter man sat on his desk, allowing Larry to remove them along with his shoes and socks. Wow. He now had his boss lying naked on his own desk ready to be fucked. Larry could have laughed at that moment, if he hadn't been so incredibly turned on.

He grabbed McPhee's cock in his hand, pumping it back into fullness, and then made his way slowly downwards, cupping his balls, massaging the skin in between. He touched a finger to McPhee's entrance, and felt his boss shiver. Encouraged by this reaction, Larry grabbed the lube, pouring a generous amount on his hand. Carefully, he eased his index finger in, using his other fingers to coat the exterior.

McPhee moaned quietly, pushing slightly onto Larry's hand. "Oh god, I haven't been properly shagged in so long," he groaned, grabbing Larry's hair with one hand. "More, I can take it."

Larry raised an eyebrow, but complied, pulling out and then sliding a second finger back in. McPhee's breath hitched, and the grip on his hair tightened. Larry slowly scissored his fingers around, stretching McPhee as far as he could, feeling along the moistened inner walls until his boss moaned again, louder this time. Larry could feel his dick getting almost painfully hard, and knew he had to speed things up a bit. Pulling out and putting more lube on his hand, he moved back in with a third finger, making McPhee gasp.

"Oh-" McPhee reached up and grabbed Larry's back with his other hand, lifting his legs to curl around Larry's back. "I'm ready, Larry, that's enough, fuck me _now._"

That was all the consent Larry needed. Quickly, he removed his hand and slicked himself with more lube, his stomach curling in acute anticipation. Lining himself up, he gripped McPhee's hips as he slid in slowly, not quit going to the hilt, knowing from experience that it still took a moment to adjust.

"More," McPhee moaned, looking up at Larry with a pleading look, "give it to me, I need it now, I need you –" he trailed off, but this time, Larry knew exactly what he wanted.

He moved slowly at first, then picked up the pace, taking care not to make the desk creak too much – they were still in public, even if it was a private public. McPhee made little sound, moaning quietly and breathing in time with the thrusts. His feet wound fully around Larry's waist, and he pulled himself against the security guard, impaling himself deeper, deeper. Larry hit his prostate and McPhee cried out, quietly, taking a hand from Larry's shoulder to place against his own mouth. Larry, in turn, gasped and panted, thrusting harder with every passing minute.

"Oh _god,_" Larry groaned, feeling his climax start to build. He removed a hand from McPhee's waist to fist his penis, wanting to feel the other's climax at the same time. An increase in his boss's panting told Larry that McPhee was approaching the edge, and fast. Larry began thrusting as hard as he could without making the desk shake, his strokes on McPhee's cock becoming wild and out of sync. Then the pleasure became overwhelming, crashing over the both of them, and McPhee buried his hand in his mouth, shouting obscenities as he came. Larry, who had no such cover, narrowly avoided biting his own tongue as he orgasmed, stars flashing before his eyes at the sheer intensity of it. He thrust a few more times, until the sensations became overwhelming. He continued to pump McPhee, who was still riding the orgasm, until the small man was totally spent.

Larry extracted himself as his hand was knocked away, and he quickly rolled the condom off of his dick and disposed of it, knotting it and shoving it deep within the recesses of the trash can. He then pulled up his pants, not bothering with the belt for the time being, and picked up his undershirt from the floor, pulling it over his head.

A groan from the desk called Larry's attention back to his boss, who was attempting to convince himself to get up and failing miserably. "Here," he said, offering a hand and McPhee's pants.

They dressed in silence, doing up buttons, buckling belts, pulling on jackets. Larry stood there for a moment, then turned to leave.

"Wait," McPhee called from behind him.

Larry turned around and was met by his keys and flashlight. "I think these belong to you," his boss said, a twinkle of humor in his eyes.

"Wait… so I'm not getting fired?" Larry was surprised. He took the offered items and stowed them back in their respective holders.

"Well, how could I get rid of my favorite employee?" McPhee smirked slightly.

"Was – was this all a ploy to get me in your office?" Larry was aghast. This man was sneakier than he thought. A chuckle from McPhee confirmed his suspicions. "That's it, I'm done with you," he fake complained, rolling his eyes. He turned to leave, only to be stopped by a hand on his arm.

"Larry." Larry turned his head to look McPhee in the eye. This was the deciding moment. Would he stay or go? "I don't – that is, I want – I don't want this to be a one-time thing, you know? I –" McPhee gulped, and let go of Larry's arm. "If you're up for it, perhaps we – perhaps we could get dinner sometime."

Larry smiled. "That sounds excellent, Dr. McPhee. Are you free tomorrow?" Tonight he had an event scheduled with Nick, but tomorrow… well, barring his job, there was time.

McPhee nodded. "Tomorrow, then." Larry turned to leave. "I'll see you tomorrow?"

Larry nodded back. "I'll meet you here." With that, he turned the key in the lock and stepped out the door, letting it swing closed behind him.

The office was so quiet, suddenly, and McPhee turned to look at the mess they had made. Suddenly, he noticed something lying on the floor by his filing cabinets. He stooped down to pick it up, and laughed when he realized what it was: Larry's tie, carelessly flung and forgotten. He stowed it in his pocket to return and walked back to his desk and straightened things up and cleaned his desk – semen could stain – went to step out the door.

With a snap, he turned the lights off.


End file.
